


spoken through your touch

by dykeingale



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Backrubs, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Lizard Kissin' Tuesday (Penumbra Podcast), Massage, Multi, Second Citadel (Penumbra Podcast), Sleepiness, i think arum would be able to give good backrubs man, this is rated teen for a single cuss lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:27:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24992287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dykeingale/pseuds/dykeingale
Summary: Lord Arum has four, perfectly good hands, much to Rilla's benefit.
Relationships: Lord Arum/Rilla (Penumbra Podcast), Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla (Penumbra Podcast)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 70





	spoken through your touch

Arum finds her snoring at her desk for the third night in a row, suitably illuminated by candles near burnt to the ends of their wicks. By no means is this development surprising, nor the longest streak of catching Amaryllis in this bad habit. She sleeps slumped over in her chair, head between her folded arms among tomes, journals, and vials; the clutter seeming to make a perfect semicircle nest around her. Even her goggles are still fastened to her face, though slightly askew.

The floorboards of the hut creak underneath his footsteps, though this does not seem to rouse her until he is a mere step away, her eyes fluttering open and jumping with a yelp. Recognition eases Rilla’s momentary fright, too tired to do anything but yawn and lift her head, eyelids blinking slowly against the heavy haze of exhaustion. She pries her goggles off her face, rubbing her fingertips along irritated red creases around her eyes, sighing, “Saints, how long was I out for?”

“I would not know,” Arum replies, bridging the gap between them, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Though, it would be remiss of me to not ensure a proper night’s rest from this point on.” 

“A proper night’s rest. Ha. Tell that to Damien,” Rilla snorts, before straightening up in her chair. A series of worrying snaps and cracks emanate from her as she rolls her shoulders back, wincing at a particularly loud pop. “Fuck, it really is a wonder my posture isn’t worse,” she mutters under her breath. 

“I cannot imagine that this is the ideal sleeping arrangement for human spinal health,” Arum tuts, ignoring the unimpressed scrunched up face he receives in return. Still, she back leans into his touch and underneath his palm the tension of her muscles remains ever present. It’s with this that an idea begins to piece together in his thoughts.

“Amaryllis,” he says slowly. “Shall we be expecting to see you back to bed soon?” 

She frowns, silently glancing between him and her research. Arum stands with a simple offer; respite, a bed, a sleeping third waiting patiently for both of their return. At her desk presents the offer of a needed solution, a breakthrough so painstakingly earned and achieved if found. There is no doubt in Arum’s mind that she would inevitably resolve the matter in the morning.

Rilla looks back up at him, and it is the way she chews on her lip, mulling over her reply that Arum knows that he must make his offer much more tempting. He lays another hand to her other shoulder, and mindful of his claws, kneads his thumbs into her flesh. 

The effect is almost instantaneous as Rilla melts back into his touch, a gentle sigh loose from her lips. Hours upon hours hunched over her desk that had previously left her compressed and strung up were slowly being unwound with every firm caress of his hands. Her head lolls back, eyes fluttering shut once again as another hand works the tight tendons of her neck, and pleasantly shivers from the gentle scrape of another set of claws upon her scalp. A hiss from her gradually melts away into a moan as Arum coaxes away a stubborn knot in her shoulder blades.

“To think, as much as I’ve recommended massage therapy to my patients, I’ve never had the time to pursue it for myself,” Rilla murmurs, gazing up at Arum through heavy lids again, though, her smile now much more languid than bone-tired. “Shall I book my appointments for, oh, the next decade in advance? Set up a payment system?”

“Lucky for you, little doctor, you will indeed find my rates quite... negotiable.” He reaches a hand out, clasping his fingers around her wrist, feeling the steadiness of her pulse as he gently kneads the tight, delicate tendons lying underneath. “However, tonight I must be insistent on one condition.” 

Arum presses his lips against the crown of Rilla’s head, and softer, murmurs: “Come back to bed, to sleep. To us.” 

From the stillness of her body, Arum nearly assumes she’d beaten him to the punch already. But beneath him Rilla arches her neck up and he feels the press of her lips feather-light against the dip of his jaw, unable to contain the purr that rumbles up his throat. Her free hand pats the side of his cheek as she sighs her resignation.

“You drive a hard bargain,” she admits, the words mouthed against his scales. “But, I have one condition of my own.”

Puzzled, Arum leans back, glancing down his snout to meet the cheeky glean in her eyes. Rilla shifts in her spots, swinging her legs out from under her desk and reaches her arms outstretched up to Arum’s shoulders. At the quizzical raise of his brow, she wraps her arms around his shoulders, and kicks her legs out straight. 

“Oh, ridiculous little human,” Arum grumbles, crouching to wrap two arms underneath her legs, and two arms curled securely around her waist. The delighted little laugh he receives in reply as he lifts Rilla up is enough to knock the mock-grumpiness from his face as he whisks her away to lay rightfully between her lovers' sides. 


End file.
